An Cruinniú, Na Laochra Cycle
by Gods'Chosen
Summary: This is the first story of the Na Laochra Cycle. A story of the trials of life, of battles to be fought and of loves to be lost. Heroes may die, but their legends live on through the ages. The first part of the Na Laochra Cycle, following the story of Liam O'Biren. (Characters from PJO and HoO will appear later on.)


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My name is Liam O'Donovan. I've lived in Ireland for all my life, fifteen years in total. There's not really too much to say about me. I'm your pretty average teenager. Not too tall, not too small. Brown hair, green eyes. Honestly, I wouldn't stand out in a crowd where I'm from.

Interesting things about me? Well, I'm home-schooled, which is much more common in Ireland than other places, apparently. My dad runs a survival school, which is pretty cool. We get free reign over the woods near us. So when I say home-schooling… you can probably guess where that took place. My dad was the one who taught me. He's a single parent and always have been. Apparently the last time he saw my mother was when she left me with him when I was a baby. Never heard him say a bad word about her though. I kind of respect him for that. Don't get teary-eyed for me though. I wouldn't change growing up in the woods for anything. I would like to meet her though. I think. I mean, who wouldn't want to know their mum? Another thing you should know about me is that I hate flying. Which leads me to my current predicament.

Being in a giant metal tube with nothing to do and, maybe worst of all, very little leg room, meant for a very, very long flight. It was probably the worst part of the holiday. That and the returning flight. Luckily, I had the window seat. Not much to look at though, once you're in the air. Nothing but sea to look forward to for the next eleven hours. We, my dad, David, and I, were off on our annual holiday to Boston. My dad, however, didn't mind flying. He, like all dads, seemed to have the ability to doze off wherever and whenever.

"Dad," I said, nudging him, rousing him from his half-slumber.

"What is it?" he asked, groggily. "Are we there?"

"What? No, we've barely set off." I replied.

"Then why did you wake me up? I was just settling down…"

"I was thinking about the camp. Do you know if Niall will be there this year?" I asked.

Niall and I had known each other for as long as I could remember on account of our dads being cousins. He was always up for a laugh and we always somehow managed to get into trouble together. The camp was where we were head. It was a place where our friends and family met up every year.

"I think so. Now, I know close you two are, but honestly you both turn into feckin' eejits when you're together." his dad replied. "It's meant to be a holiday for me as well and I don't want to deal with a hung over teenager again. That wasn't a fun time for either of us, was it?"

I went red, recalling the time dad had found us in the woods. We had managed to find Niall's dad's beer stash and, being the wild spirits that we are, we ended up drinking a little bit more than was strictly speaking good for us. We'd woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and feeling parched. That day had been honestly one of the worst.

Dad had told me the best cure was to drink some more but the very thought made me feel nauseous. He wasn't as angry as I expected him to be and had laughed it off at the time. It was cool having a dad like. Niall's father, who'd always been stricter, didn't find it as funny. Mind you, it was his beer we'd drunk.

"Ah, come on! That was one time and it was his first time in Ireland. We had to celebrate. Besides, drinking is part of our heritage." I said, eager to brush past the embarrassment.

"Heritage my arse. A real Irishman man could drink what you had and more and be fine the next day. When I was around your age, we didn't even bother with that piss you were drinking. We drank real drinks, like whiskey and poitín." dad said. "In fact, it was your mother who first introduced me to poitín."

I perked up at this point. While he'd never said a bad word about, him talking about her was a rare occurrence. He'd told me that my mother was still alive, just that they'd separated a long time ago, leaving me to him to look after.

"It was back when me and the lads were in a band together" dad said. I had heard this bit before, about how dad used to be in a band, but honestly it feels like everyone's dad used to be in a band. I'd heard some of his old records before and honestly, they weren't half bad.

I had to admit, his father was musically inclined. I'd been told many times before how he had been a singer. This point was proven when it felt like at every holiday, one of our friends or family would try, albeit it's slightly drunkenly, and get him to sing.

"We'd just had a gig, you could call it, and we almost ready to head home. It was late in the night and everyone had had a few drinks. The centre of attention we were, when I found myself getting another drink when I found the most beautiful woman, your mother, beside me. I offered to buy her a drink but she was having none of it. Said she wanted to buy me a drink for being her entertainment. That was the first time I'd ever had poitín. It was like seeing the world through some kind of lens and everything looked… different."

"Different how?" I asked. "Like the room was moving? Cos I think I know what that meant." I thought back to the drunk night in the woods with Niall where the whole world seemed to be spinning faster than it should and the very trees seemed to move.

"It wasn't _that_. I'm can hold my drink, unlike some teenage lads" dad replied, clearly thinking of the same situation as me. "Everything seemed sharper but slower at the same time… but your mother… she was even more beautiful."

"I'm pretty sure that's another well-known effect of the drink." Liam said. "Remember when Uncle Conan was drunk and tried to chat up that woman?"

It had been a few years ago but I could still remember my Uncle getting drunk and trying to pick up a woman, who, I was very sure, had a lovely personality, but wasn't what you'd call a looker.

"Oh piss off." dad said. "If you don't want to hear the story that's fine."

"Sorry. Was just thinking out loud, that's all. What happened next?"

"Nothing." He said. "That was only the first time we'd met. She came to be a regular at our gigs, learnt our songs and everything. It took us a few months to get to know each other. Couldn't find her round town. She always seemed to be the one that found us."

A voice came on over the intercom.

"Can all passenger please return to their seat and put their seat belts on. We seem to be flying through a bit of turbulence but it should clear up momentarily."

"Best buckle up, buddy." dad told me.

"But what about the rest of the story? That can't have been it…" I said. "How did you start dating? When was I born?"

"That can wait for another time." he said. "Besides, I'm getting tired again now. I'm gonna try and catch forty winks. I suggest you do the same."

I knew I wouldn't get dad to continue the story now. Whenever it got interesting something seemed to come up. I tried to question his dad further before but to no avail. IN fact, the one time I'd pushed a bit too far was one of the only times I'd ever seen my dad get angry.

I instead looked at the in-flight movies.

_Damn_, I thought. I'd seen most of the before. May as well watch _King of Sparta_ again. The rest of the flight was pretty uneventful. I eventual fell asleep with Tristan McLean shouting about something or another.

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We landed in in Boston around mid-afternoon. Getting off the plane was pretty uneventful. We managed to make our way to the luggage conveyor belt. After waiting around a bit, we finally saw our things, the last on there. There was an assortment of bags and a few boxes with wheels. Between the two of us, my dad and I could just about manage everything. We managed to find some of those luggage lockers and decided to store out stuff there while we went to freshen up and found some showers.

We both met up outside again, my dad looking like an older version of me. We were both wearing jeans and a hoody form the survival school. Not for promotion purposes or anything but, they were worn in, warm and comfy. Just want you want while camping.

"All ready to go, then?" dad asked.

"Could we get some food first? I couldn't eat that inflight meal." I said. Dad had slept through lunch and those airplane dinners always made feel unwell.

I can tell you now, I may not be a fan of everything American but their fast food is hard to beat. We headed over to a nearby car rental place, managed to get a car pretty easily and drove back to collect their things from the airport locker loaded up the car and set off.

The car ride was more exciting than the plane. Although we made the journey every year, I had always enjoyed watching the scenery change from leaving the airport, going through the city of Boston, then heading through the suburbs, gradually changing to less and less houses, then what felt like leaving civilization altogether as we drove on, past forests and mountains.

The camp in the forest was a home away from home. I went there every year with dad, his friends and their children. Throughout the day, the children learn about bush craft and survival. Not to be big-headed but I'm could survive in the woods for a while now if he had to, having been brought there since a very young age. Now I was fifteen, I reckon I'd spent almost a full year altogether in the forest around the camp.

While I enjoyed the learning and the activities, the best part came in the evening and at night when everyone would help set up a large campfire, and we would sit around roasting and cooking what people had caught and gathered in the day and an old lady, called Fiona, someone's mother or grandmother, would tell story's late into the night Ireland's past. This all gave me a great sense of community which I didn't get so much back home, being home-schooled by my dad. While I did have friends, I'd always felt a bit left out, not seeing them at school every day.

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It was late in the evening by the time we arrived. The campsite we arrived at was just how I remembered it. There were five wooden cabins all surrounding a more central fire pit, with logs and stumps carven into benches and chair dotted around it. The furniture, if it could be called that, was carved with pictures form many of Fiona's stories from when everyone was practicing their carving and woodworking.

"Don't go wandering off before you help me unload the car!" dad called.

"I'll be right there!" I replied. I helped bring the thing from the car into one of the cabins. They, the cabins, were all pretty similar but it was a first come first served situation and it looked like Liam and his dad were the first to arrive.

The bags were heavy but only because all the clothes were pretty heavy duty too. Everyone moved around a lot in the day doing different activities and even with the fire, the nights outside could get chilly until you could get under your covers in bed. Meanwhile, dad brought in two of the boxes, these contained a number of knives and other wood working tools, from hatchets to knives to saws. I brought in the last box, unlike two dad brought in, this one was a long narrow case and contained both his and his father's bows.

I'd been taught to use a bow, Niall as well, since a young age by dad at the survival school. He claimed that it was important and that the bow was much better than a rifle. I hadn't believed him at first, thinking guns would be much easier to use and faster to hunt with. Then, one year, one of dad's friends had brought a rifle for everyone have a go with while we were in America. It was strange holding the rifle and I had an immediate dislike for it. I found it hard to explain. The rifle seemed to take us back to civilization. It wasn't a part of the forest or nature. It just wasn't natural. With a bow it took effort to hunt, and make arrows, all things which were made in the forest and required a deeper knowledge. With the rifle, you just had to point and kill.

"Right then," dad said, "I suppose we'd best get the fire going." This was another one of the rules. The first to arrive had to stock and start the fire.

Being in a surrounded by trees, there was plenty of wood and from the looks of it, it hadn't rained recently so it was all dry. It was dusk when we started. Still light but the sun had started setting.

"Looks like everything is set." Dad said. "How about we go find us some supper?"

"I'll go grab the bows." I replied, immediately catching on. It had been just under a year since I had last properly hunted. I was eager to get back into the swing of it.

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AN: Hello. It's been a while since I've written. Sorry if this chapter was a little slow/short but I'm still getting into the swing of things again. I know, no mother, grown up surrounded by nature and hunting. His mother is not Artemis. As always, reviews and CC are welcome. Thanks for reading.


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